


Five Times That Annie Seduced Jeff, And One Time She Got Distracted And Forgot (But It Worked Anyway)

by PepperF



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7126429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm just going to let that title speak for itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be 'Five times Annie tried to seduce Jeff and one time it worked', but honestly, when has Jeff ever not been wrapped around her little finger?
> 
> Thank you to Bethany for making it better, for laughing with me and not at me, and for hanging around until I finally came up with an ending! ;)

**1) Save the bees**

When she leans over his shoulder and drops her voice in that way, he's pretty sure it's deliberate – because she knows it's worked before. His eyes are irresistibly drawn to the soft, pale expanse of skin presented so temptingly close... but then he catches a whiff of her perfume, something sweet and fresh, and it reminds him of the teenage girls in high school, wandering the hallways in their individual nuclear perfume zones, a heady mix of Obsession, Love's Baby Soft, Aqua Net, and bubblegum lip gloss. _She's nineteen_ , he tells himself – and maybe he's not so bad after all, because the reminder works.

"No, Annie, I will not help you sneak into Greendale at night and plant lavender in the quad just because Britta thinks guerrilla gardening is hip right now," he says, in his most reasonable voice.

(Okay, so he ends up doing it anyway. But that's because he admires her ambition and drive and energy, and not because something about her disturbs and distracts him, grabbing hold of his hindbrain and hurling him straight back into being a teenage boy who thought those girls were magical, mystical beings... dammit.)

\---

**2) Cooperative conspiracies**

It's automatic, a protective instinct that kicks in without input from his conscious mind, so it's not until he has an armful of Annie that he has second thoughts about catching her as she trips.

"You okay?"

She nods, and he straightens them both up. "Thanks, Jeff," she says, and there’s something about the way she says his name–all breathily–and the way her glance strays to his lips, that makes him nervous. This is the second time in five days that they've been this close after he's 'rescued' her, and the timing is a little suspicious – like she's testing a theory.

"Yeah. Anytime," he says, meaning _please don't do that again_.

Her smile turns coy, triumphant, like she's won something. But she hasn't. She _hasn't_.

And then he realizes that he hasn’t let go of her yet. He quickly corrects this error, because it's probably giving her all the wrong ideas.

It's been a couple of weeks since he and Britta last hooked up, what with everything that's been going on (pens to hunt and conspiracies to contrive), so he turns away and pulls out his phone, sending her a quick text as he leaves. He tries not to examine his motivations too closely.

\---

**3) The stuff that dreams are made of**

She walked in as if she owned the joint – a dame with blue eyes as wide as the Sargasso Sea (we'd been studying the book in Literature 301) and a figure as full of dangerous curves as a Playboy pin-up (I'd acquired that knowledge through my own extracurricular studies). She was squeezed into a blouse and skirt so tight I could hear the seams protesting as she walked, and she was hefting a Gatling paintball gun like it was nothing. Everything about her screamed for me to run.

I had thought I'd be safe, hiding out in the dean's office. But it seemed I'd forgotten to figure _her_ into the equation. Somehow that always seemed to happen.

"Jeff, I need your help."

The scotch I'd poured was still warming the glass and not my stomach, which maybe explained my short response. "No can do, Annie."

"Jeff!"

Yeah, if she thought the cute little foot-stomping routine would win me over, she had another think coming. "There are some mean streets a man doesn't need to walk down, and the one leading to a crummy production of _Chicago_ at the Greendale Civic Center is a prime example. I'm sitting paintball out this year."

"But I want to win, and I can't do it alone!"

I shrugged. "Life is full of disappointments, sweetheart," I drawled. "Better get used to it."

She huffed, and tried a glare on for size. I ignored it, so she tried another angle of attack. "Anyway, you can't be the gumshoe – Abed's already playing that role."

I leaned back in the chair and put my feet up on the desk, tipping back my battered trilby and chewing on a matchstick. Abed could play whatever the hell he liked – we all knew who was the real deal around here. I looked her square in the eye. "Whatever you say, doll."

She pursed her ruby lips and tossed back her neatly-curled hair. She actually did sorta resemble a porcelain doll, the kind with a fortune in stolen diamonds hidden inside. "Fine. We'll do it your way."

When she shoved my feet to the floor, the chair rolled out from under me. Even the furniture favored her, it seemed. She'd knocked me on my ass before, but this was the first time she'd done it literally. I picked myself up and dusted off my dignity – which was sore. She'd already staked a claim on the corner of the desk, laying the gun down and carefully examining her nails for nonexistent flaws. The hat tilted down over her face wasn't enough to conceal a smirk.

"I don't want a partner who isn't fully committed," she said. The thing she did with her eyelashes was pretty effective, I'd give her that. "I need to know you can handle this."

"I don't partner up with nobody," I growled.

"Yeah, yeah, and you don't brush after every meal or look both ways when you cross the street, either," she said, rolling those baby blues. "Congrats, you're a real tough guy. Point is, Abed's got this one all sewn up, neat as ninepins, unless I can take him down – cut the head off the snake, so to speak. But I can't do it alone. I need someone to watch my back, share the heat." Her smile was full of wordless promises. "I could make it worth your while."

"This isn't a game, Annie – this is paintball," I pointed out. "There's no room for pals at Greendale tonight. I could get shot in the back at any moment – or worse, the face! I could end up with paint in my hair or in my eyes… _bruising_..."

I was fighting a losing battle, and we both knew it. She was going to take the risk, and god help me, I hated to see her go it alone.

She leaned forwards, and my eyes were drawn to her straining blouse. I licked my lips – and she reached out to tap the bulge in my pants. "You bought yourself a pistol, didn't you, after last year's paintball. Or are you just happy to see me?"

I was always happy to see her, but I pulled out the gun, all the same. "Six rounds of paint, blue as your eyes." I touched the barrel to her nose. "What makes you so sure I'm not already working with Abed?"

"Mmm." She eyed me down the length of it. I had to admire her grit, because she didn't flinch, not for a second, as she assessed me. "You'll do."

She pushed to her feet, grabbing her gun up again, battle-ready. I watched as she sashayed towards the door, wondering how she could walk in those heels, never mind run.

"Why do you want to win, anyway?" I asked. "Do you even know who George Wendt is?"

"Sure I do," she said. She let me dangle for a moment before she stuck in the knife. " _Cheers_ was my bubbe's favorite show."

I groaned, and she laughed. I wasn't going to risk asking about Stefanie Powers.

"Anyway, you're missing the point, like always," she said. She stopped at the door, and glanced back, eyes glinting. "The prize is _two_ tickets, Jeff," she purred.

And then, like Alice's goddamn cat, she slipped through it and disappeared, smile last.

\---

**4) Face the music**

"Let's take a dance class!" she says.

He's not sure if he's hoping that they'll wind up in a relationship without any effort on his part, or if he's simply given up the pretense that he isn't wrapped around her little finger, but as always seems to happen nowadays, he finds himself agreeing with a minimum of snark and no real argument whatsoever. "Pride and Prejudice wish-fulfillment much?"

She shrugs. "I guess, a little? I don't know, I thought it'd be fun. And you've taken some dance lessons before, I assume – I mean, that tango with the dean didn't just come out of nowhere."

Busted. Jeff evades Annie's piercing gaze. "Don't tell Britta."

"Whatever. It means we'll be at about the same level, because I did ballet in junior high. I've never done ballroom, but I've always wanted to learn. Besides, it'll fulfil our physical education requirement."

This is true. Really, it makes perfect sense.

So if they have to partner up for a dance or two, and he's obliged to put his arms around her and hold her close, and twirl her around the floor, and gaze into her eyes… well, that's all part of the learning experience, right? And if his heartbeat gives a kick when she bites her lip and grins up at him after they've nearly tripped over each others' feet… that's only to be expected. And so what if they forgot to tell the others, so it's just the two of them? He doesn't have to share all his classes with the whole group. After all, Britta and Troy took a dance class together freshman year, and that didn't mean anything, did it? Well, of course they did start dating later, but there's really nothing remarkable about two attractive, single people getting together, is there? It happens all the time.

Maybe.

If he's lucky.

\---

**5) Explanation isn't the issue**

Annie is racing down the hall, glancing behind her as if expecting pursuit at any moment. When she sees him, she gasps in relief. "Jeff!"

She almost slams into him, and Jeff puts his hands on her shoulders to steady her. It's purely platonic, of course.

She glances back fearfully, and then looks at him. "Quick – you have to kiss me!"

Well, okay.

She squeaks as his hands tighten ruthlessly, but it turns to a moan as he mashes his mouth to hers. There's a clang as he backs her into the lockers, and a scuffle as she tries to push herself closer – and then everything else seems to fade away into the distance. Possibly there are thundering feet, or maybe it's just the sound of the blood pounding wildly through his veins. She leverages herself up onto her toes, using the lockers for support, and Jeff slips an arm around her waist to support her.

She opens her mouth and bites his bottom lip, and Jeff tilts his head so he can get closer, fall deeper. It's almost savage, the way they're devouring one another. Jeff has his hand in her hair, and Annie has her nails in his sides. He's crushing her against the lockers, and she's standing on his toes, not letting him straighten up even an inch. It's demanding and hot, no quarter given by either one of them.

And then she pulls away with a gasp. Jeff slumps against her, panting, and can feel Annie turning her head, moving her hand to wipe her mouth as she peers around his shoulder. "All clear," she whispers, low enough that he can't tell (dammit) if there's anything unsteady about her voice.

She leans into him for a second, her arms tightening, hands clutching.

"Thanks, Jeff," she whispers – and a moment later she's gone, leaving him cold.

He doesn't know what that was about – he doesn't know if there was an actual reason, or if it was just part of an ongoing plan to drive him insane – but _fuck_ , he doesn't care. He just wants to do it again.

\---

**6) Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?**

Jeff's world is a brighter place, these days. Spring is warming into summer, bringing with it the promise of long, hot days and vastly reduced teaching hours. He's started a master’s program in Education at the University of Colorado, which would be much tougher without his one-person pep squad and study partner. _Someone_ has repainted his kitchen a bright lemon yellow, and his bedroom in calm shades of lavender ("it's on the blue side of purple!"). His therapist has started to talk about decreasing the frequency of his appointments. And, best of all, sometimes he gets home to find Post-It notes on the front door.

This one is bright pink and heart-shaped. _Come and find me_ , it reads.

Grinning, pulse already quickening in anticipation, he drops his keys in the bowl and his jacket over the back of the couch. "Annie?" he calls. "You're back early!"

The muffled rustle of papers gives away her location. He heads for the bedroom, but stops in the doorway.

"Wow," he says. "Miss me?"

It's the quintessential seduction scene – wine, strawberries, skimpy lingerie – but in the hour he stayed late at Greendale, Winger speech-ing Dave through a minor crisis of faith in his ability to pass Fundamentals of Law, Annie's attention seems to have wandered. She's in the middle of the bed in the La Perla set he bought her for Valentine's Day, hurriedly trying to gather what looks like a couple of reams' worth of paper into three different colored binders, her need to create the perfect scene warring with her need to keep her notes neat and tidy.

It's possibly the most Annie thing he's ever seen in his life – a diorama of everything he loves best about her.

She glances up at him. "You're late," she says, accusingly.

He shrugs. "I didn't think you'd be here," he says, and her expression softens instantly.

"The last lecture was cancelled – the lecturer had a personal emergency," she explains. "Sorry, I didn't know what time you'd be back, so I started my assignment, and then..." She gestures to the mess scattered all around her.

"Don't be," he assures her, loosening his tie. "It's really working for me."

She looks up, confused, and then alarmed. "Jeff, my papers---!"

Everything goes flying as he tackles her to the bed.

"Jeff, you oaf," she scolds, wrapping her bare arm around his shoulders and pulling him down towards her.

"I'll clean them up," he promises. They've got the three-day weekend ahead, and he'll happily consign all of tomorrow to putting her notes back in order if it means he can have this right now. Her skin is warm and soft, and the ribbons on her underwear are singing a siren song. He nuzzles her neck, and she hums happily.

"I was practically finished anyhow," she says.

He grins against her skin. She's so hot when she doesn't give a rat's ass about him. "So, what, your seduction plan was to get undressed and ignore me?"

"Well, it's working, isn't it?" she points out. "Like always."

He lifts his head at this. "What? When have you ever managed to seduce me? Before sex was an option, I mean."

Annie scoffs. "When have you ever managed to resist me?" she counters.

He has to think hard for a moment. "Santa outfit, third year," he finally says, trying to ignore the fact that that was four years ago.

"Oh, please. Who was that dressed as a Tin Soldier in the Christmas pageant, then?"

"Yeah, but…" Okay, he still can't recall what exactly changed his mind. One moment he was sanely and rationally explaining to Annie that the babytalk thing was beneath her, and the next… bam, acapella harmonies. He hunts around for a better example, and comes up empty.

"See?" says Annie, smugly. "I could've had you any time I wanted, Jeff Winger."

He kind of wishes she'd taken him, in that case – but he's learning not to dwell on the past. "Yeah, okay, I admit it, I'm all yours," he concedes, feeling light and free. He rolls onto his back beside her, and flops his arms wide. "Do what you want with me," he says.

Losing the battle has never felt so good.


	2. Outtake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little outtake that I didn't feel fitted with the rest of the fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the super-speedy beta, Bethany! :)

**3) Screwed in the Biology room**

Jeff keeps his eyes fixed on his phone, fake-texting furiously although it's past midnight and no one is on the other end, but he's pissed and he doesn't want to look at Annie because _what the hell?_

The worst thing is that he'd been just fine before, nothing on his mind but sleep, but now he's frustrated and cranky. No, the worst thing is that he's pissed at himself for being frustrated, because it's really nothing to get worked up about. No, the _worst_ thing is that he should have known better and yet he fell for it anyway.

No. The _absolute_ worst thing is that he's pretty sure she did this to him on purpose.

He shoots her an annoyed glance, but it's like she can't see the air of tension that must be practically shimmering around him. Seriously, it's not like he thinks she owes him sex now or anything, but she had to know what she was implying when she sent that text, right? He stabs at the buttons on his phone. _why why why why WHY???_ reads the screen. 

"Ugh, talk about a hostile judge! But that's okay, we'll convince him, right Jeff? We just need Troy and Abed to drum up a reasonable suspect, and then we’ll take it from there. Between us, we can convince anyone that night is day and black is white!" She taps his arm with her fist – and her peppy 'we're such a great team, rah-rah-rah' obliviousness is the last straw.

"What the hell, Annie?!"

For a moment she looks genuinely surprised – and then she rolls her eyes. "Oh, grow up, Jeff. How else was I going to get you down here at this time of night?"

"You could have tried just _asking_ ," he snaps.

Annie huffs. "Yeah, like that would have worked. I know you too well, Jeff."

He opens his mouth to tell her that of _course_ he would've come, he'd do anything for her, she knows that – but admitting that would be infinitely worse, so he closes it again in a hurry.

"See?" says Annie, primly.

Jeff grinds his teeth in frustration. He ducks his head back down over his phone, wishing he wasn't so easy where she was concerned, wishing he hadn't just made that really obvious, wishing he hadn't put himself out there when it hadn't even been real, wishing…

Wishing he was getting screwed in the Biology room, goddammit.


End file.
